


Turning Point

by lalakate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Domestic Violence, F/M, new start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 04:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13779240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalakate/pseuds/lalakate
Summary: Sometimes enough is finally enough.*This story deals with domestic violence, although the depictions are not graphic.





	1. Chapter 1

He notices the low beam of light coming from the front window indicating she is probably still awake. God, he isn't sure if that's a good or a bad thing, and he grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, wishing he could be doing anything than what he is about to do.

  
There are times that he hates his job.

The ground is still damp from a previous downpour, but he finds no relief in the scent of clean air, the night's humidity as oppressive as the message he must deliver. Shit. She doesn't deserve this. Any of this. She deserves so much more—a man who appreciates her, who cherishes her, who would look after her and her daughter with care and tenderness rather than treating them as if they are no more than an afterthought in a sorry excuse for a life.

  
_Rein it in, Locksley—she's married,_ he instructs himself, knowing he is far too personally attached to this woman for his own good. He hesitates before knocking on the solid panel, exhaling with force as he sees her peer through the side window before opening the door.

"Sherriff Locksley," she acknowledges, the defeat in her eyes slicing into him with precision. "To what do I owe the honor of tonight's visit?"

"May I come in, Mrs. King?"

She moves back wordlessly, and he notices the impeccable state of her dress for the lateness of the hour. She motions him towards the comfortable sofa, and he sits with a sigh, wondering what has happened to the exquisite vase that had been perched on the coffee table when he had last paid a call only a few nights ago.

"What has he done this time?" He looks into eyes he wishes he could see smiling for once rather than pinched in frustration and regret.

"Started a brawl," he answers, and she drops her head, shaking it as her expression morphs into one of disgust. "I got a call about an hour ago from the proprietor. Lee is at the station being processed as we speak."

"Where did it happen?"

She won't let him off the hook—he knows this and respects this about Regina King. Her spine is made of sterner material than those of most of the men and women on his police force, but that fact shouldn't condemn her to a life chained to a man who treats her like shit. God, he would like to beat her husband to a pulp right now. His fist flexes in his lap.

"The Rabbit Hole," he responds, noticing the slight twitch of her lip at the mention of the notorious strip club. It is then he sees the suitcases in the corner of his vision along with a pink tote stuffed with a toddler's memorabilia. "Going somewhere, Regina?"

The use of her first name catches her attention, and he watches as some of the starch leaks out from her shoulders.

"I have to, Robin," she breathes, her brow creasing as her lips tremble. "I can't live like this anymore."

Admiration merges with fear at the thought of her moving somewhere out of his reach.

"Where will you go?" he questions, leaning in closer, seeing her hands actually tremble.

"I have no idea. I just can't subject Lily or myself to this kind of life anymore."

What possesses him, he cannot say, but his hands envelop hers, clasping them until the shaking subsides, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. A stubborn tear burns down her cheek, and it strikes him that in all of the times he has had to deliver bad news to Regina King, he has never seen her cry.

"You can stay with me."

Her eyes fly open at his audacious suggestion, and his gaze falls to their hands, still joined, neither of them making any move to disconnect from the other.

"I have a spare room, you know," he continues, attempting to sound as causal as he can. "You and Lily would be safe with me until you can decide what you need to do."

He wonders if he has pushed to far as her mouth opens silently and her brows creases in thought.

"Wouldn't we be in the way?"

Eyes are locked now, filled with sentiments too charged to voice at a time like this.

"Never," he whispers, and she nods, quickly wiping away yet another stray tear that has managed to get away from her. "Go fetch Lily, and I'll take your bags to my car."

She stands wordlessly, making her way upstairs as he stares around the room. He spots a wedding photograph, noting the frame is now cracked, wondering just when and how that damage had come about. Then he hears her footfalls, and he turns to see her cradling a tousled, raven-headed two year old close to her chest, wrapped snugly in a sage blanket. The girl stares at him with wide eyes that match her mothers, and he caresses her warm head, the scent of sleepy child hitting his heart right where it shouldn't. He hoists their bags with little effort as they make their way to the front door.

"Are you alright?" he asks just before they walk out into the night, seeing her pause before stepping boldly into an unknown world.

"Yes," she states flatly, her tone precise and clear. "Finally."


	2. Chapter 2

Their drive is made in relative silence, punctuated by the rhythmic swoosh of windshield wipers against the smattering of rain hitting the windshield. She feels like laughing and crying, like screaming and running out into the rain, like yelling out in defiance to the universe and then slipping mutely into a bed piled with warm quilts and mounds of pillows. It's as if electricity is surging through her in an endless cycle, leaving her exhausted, relieved and absolutely terrified at the same time.

  
Christ—what the hell is she supposed to do now?

  
The first steps had been liberating—methodically folding clothes and placing them in a bag, checking her private bank account online, selecting Lily's favorite toys to make certain wherever they landed would seem at least somewhat familiar to the child. But she is anxious—relieved, but jittery, wondering just what will be waiting for her around the bend, even though she implicitly trusts the one navigating her down a road she cannot see.

Robin Locksley—her guardian angel, and the best man she knows.

Of course, that's not saying much as far as her history with men is concerned, but he's good all the same. No, more than good—he's kind, thoughtful, and always treats her like she matters, something which boggles her mind and makes her uneasy. She's not used to it, someone wanting to know if she is okay, someone offering to go out of his way to help her when she's never done a damn thing for him other than occasionally bailing her husband out of his jail.

A fact which must make her rank highly in his book. She shakes her head in disgust with her life.

"Are you alright?" His question pulls her out of herself, and she forces a tight smile on to her face, one she is certain doesn't fool him for a second.

"Never better," she responds, tasting the sharp edge of bitterness on her tongue.

"You're a terrible liar," he insists, and she feels his eyes flash in her direction, prompting her to sit up taller in her seat.

"How would you know?" she questions. "Are you an expert on gaging how truthful people are?"

"Well, I am the sheriff," he returns, and she can't help the puff of air that escapes through her nose. "I suppose it would be helpful in my line of work to have at least some sort of instinct as to whether or not someone is lying to me."

"And you think I am?" she tosses back defensively.

"I know you are," he states, and she turns her head away from him, sighing audibly. "And I don't meant that as an insult, Regina. Believe me. It's the skilled liars who worry me."

If he only knew how skilled she had become at lying to herself.

Lily is strangely silent in the back seat, contenting herself with her stuffed panda and her thumb. The soft sucking sound eases the tension in her shoulders, and she wishes she could hold her daughter close, craving that physical connection between mother and child.

At least she did it, she tells herself yet again. Finally. She walked out on Lee. She made a break with the man she refused to let break her. What in God's name had taken her so long? The fact that she has no one who wants her and nowhere to go shouldn't have kept her pinned to a life gone sour. But it had. And she despises herself for it.

"You're doing the right thing, you know." Her head snaps back in his direction.

"Do you really think so?"

She hates how uncertain she sounds the moment the words leave her mouth. _Weak_ , she thinks to herself, her mother's voice resounding all too clearly in her head. Her cheeks burn in shame as the damning evidence loops over and over again in her mind until she wants to smash the dashboard with her fists.

  
"Yes," he answers, the soft assurance in his tone nearly breaking her in a way Lee never could. "Don't you?"

  
"I don't know what to think anymore," she sighs, looking out into the bleak nothingness that reminds her of her life. "My past decisions haven't exactly been stellar, you know."

She senses rather than sees his tight smile, hearing his lips smack together.

"Neither have mine," he returns. "But we all get a second chance, thank God."

"I'm not sure I deserve one," she sighs. "My own mistakes got me into this mess, Robin. But Lily deserves better."

"So do you," he states firmly, giving her a moment to allow his words to sink in. "You need to take it easy on yourself, Regina. Give yourself some time to rest and regroup."

She stares down at her hands, all fidgety and restless in her lap.

"That's easier said than done," she breathes into the small space between them.

"So it is. But what worthwhile comes easily?"

What, indeed?

"Damned if I know," she shoots back, and she hears him chuckle softly beside her before a weighted silence takes over again. Nothing has ever been easy for her.

_Weak_ , she reprimands herself yet again, weak and too concerned with keeping up appearances rather than owning up to what was really going on with her marriage. But appearances began to break apart months ago as Lee's problems escalated and her hatred of him grew. God. She hates her own husband. Just the thought of him makes her skin clammy and her stomach churn. How pathetic is that? How had she let her life get so out of hand?

  
"We're nearly there," Robin states, pulling her train of thought back to the present moment. "I know it's a bit of a drive, but…" He pauses and tilts his head in her direction. "I love where I live."

And she had fought back the urge to set fire to her house before leaving. God, their lives are so different.

"It's definitely off the beaten path," she muses quietly, and she feels his deep laugher just beside her. It warms her like whiskey, making her crave an actual drink in the worst way, making her crave the man beside her in ways she shouldn't.

"I suppose I value my privacy," he reasons with a shrug. "My job can be rather exhausting at times."

Her chest squeezes at the words as guilt hits her hard. His job has landed him on her doorstep at all hours of the night, and she can't help but wonder why he always chooses to speak with her in person rather than just picking up the telephone and being done with it? And tonight, he is obviously off-duty, driving his Jeep, wearing jeans and a green flannel shirt. Why didn't he just send over a deputy?

She can't let herself entertain that answer—not now. Perhaps not ever.

"I knew we would be imposing," she reasons, turning to stare out of the window even though there is nothing to see but streaks of rain trickling down the glass. "We'll get out of your way as soon as possible…"

"No," he interrupts her, darting a quick glance in her direction before returning his eyes to the road. "No. You and Lily are no imposition at all. I wouldn't have invited you if you were. Please believe me, Regina. You are most welcome in my home."

She sighs audibly, nodding in an automated fashion as her mind skitters off in eight directions at once.

"Still," she breathes, afraid to look at him, afraid that what fragile cords are holding her together will snap if she sees that raw expression of tenderness in his eyes. "I won't take advantage of your generosity. Once I'm able to stand on my own two feet, I'll move on. I have to move on, Robin."

His exhale reaches out from across the seat before his hand touches down tentatively on hers.

"You've been standing on your own for a long time, Regina," he returns, the pressure of his fingers squeezing hers nearly breaking her resolve. "You don't have to do this alone."

Something skitters up her spine at the touch of his hand, something tingly and fresh and far too potent under her present circumstances.

"I've been alone a long time," she murmurs as he turns down a side road she would have easily missed. "It's what I know."

It's all she knows. The school of hard knocks, a life littered with bad decisions and mounds of regret. His hand holds hers tighter in response, and he clears his throat before swallowing.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be, is it?" he asks. "Being alone, that is."

His question takes a moment to settle in, and she wonders if it was meant directly for her or simply as a statement of fact.

"I didn't realize it was cracked up to be all that in the first place," she admits, looking down at their hands dimly lit by the lights of his dashboard. He makes a sound somewhere between a hum and a snort, and it makes her smile in regions still too tight to relax.

"Then let's not dwell on it anymore," he reasons as the road's surface shifts from pavement to gravel. She bounces in her seat and turns to see Lily staring out the window.

"You weren't kidding about it being off the beaten path," she muses, missing the comfort of his hand as it obligingly returns to the steering wheel.

"No," he grins. "And there's another turn just around this curve. Don't panic, alright?"

"What do you—"

Her protest is cut off before it even begins. Her breath catches as he maneuvers them down a slope that descends into nothing, and she grabs his thigh, bracing herself for impact, certain they have just plunged over the hill.

"You can open your eyes now, Regina."

She pops one open, surveying her surroundings as best she can in the dim light.

"Here we are. I told you to trust me."

His hand covers hers again, and she releases her vice-like grip out of embarrassment, trembling at the feel of his warm palm on her cold skin. He tugs her fingers into his own, removing the keys from the ignition and turning to face her head on.

"You'll be safe here," he assures her. "You and Lily. I give you my word."

They are clearly surrounded by the forest even though it is difficult to make out the shape of trees in the rain.

"Why are you doing this?" The question escapes her before she can call it back. His head drops, his fingers stroke hers unconsciously, and he swallows hard enough for her to hear.

"Because it's right," he breathes, and she spies him biting his lower lip making him look oddly vulnerable. "And because I want to."

Shit. Not now. Not him. Not like this. God, she just left her failure of a husband. She cannot allow herself to feel things for Robin Locksley—whatever those things are. She needs space, she needs time, she needs to re-establish her own identity and to rebuild a stable life for herself and for her daughter. Entertaining girlish fantasies will only end up hurting her again, and she's tired of hurting. Besides—he's far too good a man for her. At some point he would realize that and walk away, leaving her to fend for herself as she's always done.

"Let's get you and Lily inside," he cuts in, releasing her hand and opening his door. "I'll come back for your bags."

Before she can protest, he has opened his umbrella and moved to Lily's car seat, extracting the little girl and placing her securely on his shoulder, blanket and all. Regina quickly hops out to join him, taking the umbrella from his grasp and trying to hold it high enough to cover the three of them as they make their way up the handful of steps to his front door.

"Remind me next time that heels and gravel don't mix," she murmurs as he locates the right key.

"Do you own a pair of flats?" he questions as he moves on to the dead bolt, Lily now watching him in fascination.

"Are you really being smart with me?" she retorts, feeling on-edge and more than a little overwhelmed.

"Better than being an idiot," he returns, realizing his implication immediately. "God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…."

"Yes you did," she states as they step into a darkened great room. "You're a terrible liar, yourself, you know." She stares at him hard in the darkness, reaching out to stroke her daughter's matted curls spread out haphazardly across his shoulder. "But you're right."

"I wish I weren't."

His eyes never leave hers as his switches on the lights with his free hand.

Whatever she had been expecting, his home goes far beyond. It reminds her of a luxury cabin one would rent for a weekend in the mountains, filled with the scent of timber and forest, clean and rustic, perfectly suited to the man who lives here.

"This is incredible," she mutters as she steps further into the room, staring up at the vaulted ceiling and stairs that lead to a spacious loft. It is warm here—soothing, open yet protected, and she walks in a small circle, taking it all in.

"I'm glad you like it," he smiles, and she notes the affection in his expression as he looks around. "It took me long enough to get it the way I wanted it." She stops in her tracks.  
"You built this?" He bites his lower lip as his brows raise up to his hairline. "You did, didn't you?" she shoots back, oblivious to the fact that her mouth is gaping open. "God, Robin, is there anything  you can't do?"

  
He rubs Lily's back as the child raises up for an exaggerated yawn.

"Plenty," he answers, indicating an oversized brown and rust couch with pillows Regina could practically swim across. She sits just as Lily reaches for her, and he hands the girl down into her waiting arms, his expression hitting her squarely where it hurts. "Can I get you anything?" he asks, smiling softly as Lily burrows into her mother's chest. "Something to eat or drink?"

Her lips dot her daughter's forehead as she settles back into the sofa.

"Whatever you have that burns on the way down," she states, unleashing his dimples and making her smile in response. "And maybe some juice for Lily? If you have any, that is."

"Orange juice alright?" he questions, already walking into the open kitchen.

"Perfect," she returns as she strokes Lily's curls.

"Po?"

They both start at the small, sleepy voice, and he pauses mid-stride, looking back at Lily.

"Does she want something else?" She smiles and kisses Lily's cheek.

"Her panda," Regina answers, moving to attempt to stand with her daughter. "We must have left it in your Jeep."

"I'll get it," he interrupts, waving a hand in their direction. "You two stay there. I think I can manage to locate a stuffed panda."

She relaxes and watches as he grabs the umbrella, feeling the gush of damp air when he opens the door.

"Po?" Lily asks again, pointing at the door with a confused expression on her face.

"Yes, my darling," her mother assures her. "Mr. Robin has gone to get your Po."

Little legs begin to shuffle, and the girl slides off her mother's lap, taking three cautious steps away from her in her fuzzy yellow footed pajamas. Then heavy footsteps are heard just outside the door, and he returns, the beloved panda secure and dry under his arm, their bags dangling from his hand. Lily pads uncertainly in his direction, arms thrust out nearly as far as her lower lip. The suitcases are discarded, the umbrella cast aside, and Robin bends down to the girl's level, offering the panda to her and smiling at her reaction.

"Is this Po, Lily?"

She doesn't answer him, still cautious when it comes to this man she doesn't fully know, but she steps almost close enough to take the bear. He leans slowly in her direction, extending his hand until her tiny ones can grasp her sought after prize.

"Say thank you, Lily," Regina instructs as her daughter totters back to the couch. "Thank you."

"Tank oo," the child repeats before crawling back up beside her mother.

"Yes," Regina echoes, looking up at him decisively. "Thank you."

The weighted expression on his face tells her he knows she means for far more than retrieving the panda. His head drops quickly, and he rubs the back of his neck.

"She's adorable," he mutters, shaking the rain and his jacket off and moving her bags against the wall. "How in God's name do you deny that child anything?"

"Just wait until she makes a mess of your kitchen," Regina tosses back, enjoying that laugh of his again as she slides her shoes off her feet. "Then you'll change your tune." She sighs deeply as her toes uncurl, and she pulls her legs underneath her, warding off a sudden chill.

"Some parts of your life can be too neat, you know," he returns. She gazes back at him from across the room, taking him in in this different setting, jacket off, collar open. He looks at home here—more relaxed, more human and imperfect, somehow, which makes him all the more perfect and unattainable.

"I wouldn't know," she whispers. "Everything in my life has basically crashed and burned."

Eyes connect, and her throat tightens uncomfortably. He then takes a deep breath and looks at her meaningfully.

"Not everything," he notes with a small nod at Lily. Tears pool tightly behind her eyes.

"No," she manages. "Not everything." She clears her throat uncomfortably, suddenly wishing she could vanish into his over-sized sofa.

"Right—those drinks."

She hears him make his way across the hard wood back to the kitchen as Lily relaxes into her side, babbling happily to Po in a language only the two of them seem to understand. How odd to have a man pouring a drink for her, to have alcohol openly in the home and not hidden away for fear of inciting a drunken spectacle. She shivers unexpectedly.

"Would you like me to build a fire?" She sighs, gazing into the darkened fireplace.

"No," she returns quietly. "Just make mine strong."

"I can do that."

No crass comment. No biting remark. One tear breaks free, and she lets it fall silently, wiping her cheek in haste lest he see the resulting streak. But her sniff gives her away, and he comes to sit by her side, balancing three drinks, one in a plastic cup with no lid.

"She has a sippy cup in her bag," Regina states, swallowing hard. "I wouldn't want her to stain your couch."

He gives her a look she can't quite read.

"I have a dog," he states, watching her eyes widen as she scans the room. He gets up obligingly, rifling through the pink bag, procuring a purple cup that sparkles. She nods at his silent inquisition, and he returns, pouring the juice into a cup Lily recognizes instantly. "He's outside right now—in his house, no doubt. Louis hates storms, the big baby."

She laughs at this, another tear breaking free in her momentary lapse of restraint. Then it all hits her—hard. Shit.

"I'm sorry," she tries, wiping her eyes, seeing Lily look up at her in confusion. She hates this—hates letting him see her like this—hates allowing her daughter to witness this chink in her armor. But she's cracking open and she cannot stop.

"It's alright," he assures her, scooting closer, allowing his arm to drape around her shoulders. Lily is cradled Lily between them, and she squirms in protest, making Robin adjust his position somewhat even as he refuses to break contact. God, he feels so warm, smells so clean and she just can't fight anymore. She's empty—totally and completely hollow—and this sensation frightens her as badly as had Lee's drunken tirades. Her shoulders shake, her chest heaves, and she allows her face to fall into his chest, their drinks all but forgotten.

"Let it out," he whispers unnecessarily. She couldn't stop crying now if she had to, and she fists his shirt in her hands, hating her desperation, needing him to keep her grounded. Lily crawls out from her burrow into his lap, allowing him to hold them both closer, prompting Regina to break apart even more. When was the last time somebody held her—really held her like this? She can't remember, actually, and she forces down warring urges to pull him closer and push him away. So much spills out of her—years of anger and regret until all sense of time deserts her and she is left in a trembling heap.

"What am I going to do?" she finally manages, her voice far steadier than her emotional state. She dares a look at him, shocked to see his eyes are wet, too, not sure what to do about that. He leans forward as far as Lily will allow him and grabs her glass, handing to her carefully.

"Drink," he instructs, watching her closely as she takes a gulp of her whiskey. "Then sleep. Eat a good breakfast tomorrow, and perhaps then we can discuss that question. But for now, try to put it out of your mind."

"Again, easier said than done," she states, eyeing him over the rim of her glass before she tosses back another drink.

"Then I'll pour you another," he returns matter-of-factly. "But you need to rest. Both of you."

Lily yawns as if on cue, and she nuzzles trustingly into Robin's chest without a care in the world. He strokes the girl's tousled hair as she brings her thumb back to her mouth, her sippy cup now all but forgotten. Regina aches as she watches her daughter's eyes droop and pop back open, knowing the child's battle with sleep is already half-over, wishing she could forget with such ease. She tosses back another drink, relishing the slow burn and the warmth pooling in her belly, willing it to spread as quickly through her veins as possible.

The sound of rain becomes oddly lulling, and she feels herself unwind muscle by muscle until the sensation of being boneless begins to take over. Robin is right, she realizes. They're safe here with him. Lee can't get to her—hell, she doesn't even have to bother with locking her bedroom door tonight. She can rest, really rest, for the first time in months.

God—it's so tempting.

"Sleep, Regina."

His voice echoes as if from a distance, the scent of pine and warmth from his body pulling her under layer by layer into a realm of peace and quiet. Her limbs go limp, her breathing steadies, and her final conscious thought is that letting Robin Locksley bring her here was probably the best decision she's ever made.


End file.
